Mrs Hudson took my Skull
by Sherlockian87
Summary: Sherlock has been evicted from 221B by Mrs. Hudson, due to the fact that he is behind in paying his rent. Where is he to go? (more info inside)
1. Part One: Lack of Communication

**I was sent this lovely message on tumblr by lokisherkhantimelord221b**

'**I love to read your fan fics on Archive Of Our Own and was wondering if you could do one where Sherlock got kicked out of his flat from Mrs. Hudson because of his rent and he decides to stay at Molly's until the rent is payed. I'll leave it up 2 you!'**

**Once I read this I couldn't get the idea out of my head and knew that I had to write. Hence my writing for my 'Facial' fic got put on hold (oops) until I got this idea out of my brain. Anyway, I basically sat myself in front of my computer and just let my brain loose. This is what came of it and I hope that lokisherkhantimelord221b likes what I wrote, as well as my other lovely readers. Of course I originally intended this to be a simple one-shot, but when it hit over 9,000 words I decided to split it into parts. I'm going to post it all in one go though. Oh yeah, and there will be smut. Of course there will eventually be smut, I can't seem to write anything anymore without throwing some smut in there :-P**

**Feel free to comment on each individual chapter … or wait until the end! Do whichever you so desire! But please, do let me know what you think :D**

**Anyway, HAPPY READING!**

* * *

><p>Part One: Lack of Communication<p>

* * *

><p>As Molly stepped into her flat she let out a loud sigh, instantly taking note of the Belstaff and blue scarf hanging on her coat hook. After removing her own coat and scarf she proceeded further into her flat.<p>

Sherlock was sat upon her sofa, his suit jacket draped across the nearby chair. He was stroking Toby's back, the cat purring happily. Neither the feline nor Sherlock raised their heads to acknowledge her entrance.

"Mrs. Hudson took my skull." Sherlock offered as explanation.

"Late on the rent again?"

Sherlock let out a very loud sniff, "It's not my fault that the cases I've been taking don't pay well." He still hadn't looked up at Molly, keeping his eyes focused on the cat.

Molly crossed her arms over her chest, "Actually it sort of is. I'm certain your inbox is bursting with cases that would pay well! But noooo you keep picking only threes or fours. What's gotten into you lately? This is the third time this year that Mrs. Hudson has kicked you out! You used to only take a case if it was an eight or nine! Possibly a seven!"

Sherlock gave an unconvincing shrug, "I only took those cases because I had John with me, and now he's too busy with his offspring! And I do appreciate you accompanying me, but more often than not an eight or a nine is dangerous and I ... dontlikeputtingyouinharmsway."

The last seven words came out in a rush. Molly was used to this though, and caught on to every word. Biting back a smile she strode over to him, cupped the sides of his face in her hands and tilted him back so that she could place a kiss upon his forehead. His eyes at last met hers.

"Where would you go, if you didn't have me?" She asked him.

He moved his hands to her hips, "But I do have you."

Molly exhaled loudly through her nose, shaking her head as she stepped out of his hold and moved towards the kitchen, "You're lucky you do." She muttered beneath her breath.

"Haven't I told you that I know that I am?" He called after her.

She shook her head again as she began to putter about the kitchen to make tea. When she felt his arm slip around her waist, pulling her close up against him, she leaned back into his embrace. He buried his face into the curve of her neck.

It had taken her a little while to get used to the fact that he seemed to enjoy touching her and holding her. She had never thought of him as being a physical person, but when he was alone, with just her, it was almost as if he couldn't keep his hands off of her. In the most non-sexual way possible that is. It just appeared to be that he craved a connection; a proof that she was there, with him, and for him.

His deep baritone broke through the rampage of her thoughts, "This _problem _would be easily solved if you would just agree to move into Baker Street with me."

She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest against her back and the puffs of breath against her neck as he spoke.

"No Sherlock. I've already told you multiple times, no."

"Why? I don't understand. And I don't like not understanding." He all but growled against her.

She nudged him slightly in order for him to loosen his hold on her, so that she could turn about and face him. An expression of annoyance, disappointment, and confusion was what met her.

"I'm not going to move in to Baker Street just to become a replacement for John. That's originally why you had him move in with you, wasn't it, so that you could afford the rent? I know Mrs. Hudson loves you, and that she looks upon you as the son she's never had, but she can't give you the flat for free. She needs money just like everyone else does. I'm not moving in with you just so that you can continue to afford to live there."

Molly stepped away from him once more. Sherlock stood, dumbfounded. When she returned to him, after retrieving two cups for their tea, she noticed that he had his 'buffering' face on. Rolling her eyes she set the cups down and picked up the kettle before it whistled. Once the tea was steeping she turned back around to look at Sherlock. He still hadn't moved, nor had he blinked. She was tempted to slap him out of it, but thought better of it, instead deciding on pinching his bicep.

"OW!"

He blinked rapidly several times, before glaring at her as he rubbed the spot. She smiled innocently at him before moving over to their tea. He took the offered cup and followed her back to the sofa, still glowering. Toby had removed himself and was now sprawled out upon the floor.

Sherlock had yet to touch his tea, instead only holding it on top of his knee, "You honestly believe that I only want you to move to Baker Street to become a replacement for John?"

Molly took a slow sip before setting the cup down onto the coffee table, "Yes. And no." She folded her hands in her lap.

He tilted his head to the side, "Molly, you need to be a bit more descriptive, you know that I can't deduce you as easily as I can everyone else. I either get it completely wrong or I can't read you at all. Please tell me what your reason is."

Now she was the one not meeting his gaze. She worried her bottom lip, staring down at her hands, "I'm not moving in with you just so that I can help in paying the rent. I like my own flat, I like living here. And my lease isn't ending any time soon anyway."

He pouted around the rim of his cup as he took a sip, "But think about all of the advantages that living at Baker Street would bring! You'd be closer to Bart's for one, giving you more time to sleep in, and my bed is far more comfortable."

"Why would I be sleeping in your bed?"

He peered at her over the edge of his cup, stopping mid-sip, "Why wouldn't you? We sleep in the same bed here, why wouldn't we continue to do so there?"

Molly gaped at him then shook her head, "I'm going to go take a shower. I'm tired and my brain is clearly not working properly." She stood up and strode towards the bathroom, leaving behind her half-drunk tea.

Sherlock sighed wearily, staring down into the depths of his cup. He didn't move from the sofa until she had finished showering and was dressed and lying in bed. He got up and walked into the bedroom.

Her glasses were placed precariously upon her nose. She pushed them back, and snuggled further down into her pillow, a novel open and settled against her stomach. He eyed her for a moment then grabbed his pyjamas and went into the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind him.

When he returned to the bedroom her book was on her nightstand, her glasses on top, and the lamp switched off. She was curled up facing away from him. He could tell by her breathing that she had yet to fall asleep.

"Molly?"

"Mmm."

He sat down upon the bed, lifting up the duvet and sheet before sliding himself beneath them, "Will you go to Baker Street for me tomorrow?" He laid his head down against the pillow.

"Whatever for?" She still had her back to him.

"There are some things that I need."

He heard her let out a slow sigh.

"Fine, I'll go after my shift."

"Good. You know of course that I can't. The last time that I tried to, Mrs. Hudson threatened to call mummy."

Molly let out a snort, "Yes, I do recall you telling me that. I don't think Mrs. Hudson will mind letting me in."

"No, I don't think she will at all."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

"Goodnight, Molly."


	2. Part Two: A Surprising Discovery

**Here we have Molly going to Baker Street and noticing some very strange things indeed. Sorry no smut yet.**

* * *

><p>Part Two: A Surprising discovery at Baker Street<p>

* * *

><p>Stopping at Sherlock's flat after her shift was not something that Molly wanted to do. Mostly because it required her to take a cab from Bart's, instead of walking directly to the tube station. But who was she to ever say no to Sherlock Holmes?<p>

Upon arriving outside of 221B she took a deep breath and rang the door bell. Within moments it opened.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson, I'm just stopping by to pick up a few things for Sherlock. I hope you don't mind." Molly explained to her.

Mrs. Hudson let her in after giving her a warm embrace, "Oh, I don't mind at all. _He_ may not be allowed back in until his rent is paid, but you are most welcome! Has he … ahh … found another place to stay then?"

Molly was slipping off her mittens, "Yeah, he has. He is, uhh, staying with me."

Mrs. Hudson brought her hand up to her mouth, "Oh dear. That is most unfortunate."

Molly dismissed her words with a wave of her hand, "It's not really, I'm used to him being there. He's used my flat as a bolt hole for years, you know. I'm quite used to his company."

Mrs. Hudson still had her hand over her mouth, "Yes, well ahh … I suppose that's very true. Go on up, I haven't been since he left, so I don't know what the state of the place is; me not being his housekeeper and all!" She turned away, stepping back into her flat, the door shutting behind her with a snap.

Molly eyed the closed door for a moment, positive she could hear a faint bit of giggling, and couldn't help but wonder why Mrs. Hudson was acting so oddly. Perhaps she had taken some of her herbal soothers a bit earlier than usual. Shaking her head Molly made her way up the stairs.

The flat was shockingly neat. There were no piles of papers strewn about, nor was the wallpaper covered in case work. There weren't even any experiments set up on the kitchen table. His microscope was covered with a sheet to keep it dust free, and looked as if it hadn't been touched in weeks. Truth be told, the flat had the look about it as if Sherlock had not been there for some time.

Molly stared about her, taking in the sight of this oddity. She knew that Mrs. Hudson had only evicted him a day ago, but from where she stood it looked as if Sherlock hadn't lived there for three months! She tried to wrap her head around this strangeness, but couldn't come to any conclusion but one. And that one conclusion didn't make the least bit of sense to her. In fact, it was utter madness, it couldn't possibly be true.

Suddenly remembering the task she had been sent upon she moved towards his bedroom. After packing up the items that he _had _to have she returned to the main room, giving another glance towards the kitchen. Never before had she seen it so neat and tidy, not even while John was living there.

Giving in to her temptation she stepped towards the fridge and opened it. Not possible. There wasn't a single body part in sight. In fact, the shelves were almost entirely barren. She closed the door and stood still for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. What exactly was going on? Her mind whirled, nothing was making sense anymore.

She strode from the kitchen, gathered up the bag that she had filled and hurried down the stairs, suddenly not wanting to be there any longer. She didn't even bother to say goodbye to Mrs. Hudson.

The entire tube ride towards her flat was spent in deep contemplation. She very nearly missed her stop. When she approached her building she glanced up and saw that the lights were on in her flat. Of course he would still be there, he had no where else to go, and she hadn't received any texts from him telling her that he was on a case.

She climbed the three flights of stairs, silently cursing the lift that had yet to be fixed. When she reached the door of her flat it swung open, revealing Sherlock smiling at her.

"Hello!" He greeted.

She narrowed her eyes, he was being too cheerful. She stepped into her flat, walking around him.

"Hi. Here are the things you wanted." She held out the bag and he took it from her as he closed the door.

After shrugging off her coat and scarf, she kicked off her shoes and moved towards the kitchen.

"Dinner is taken care of." He called after her, peering into the bag.

She stopped mid-step and spun about, "You … cooked?" She asked, noting for the first time that there was a distinct smell of food in the air.

He raised his head, "Yes."

"You can cook?"

He scoffed, "Course I can … just never let on … didn't want John to know."

Molly rolled her eyes, "Typical." She made her way into the kitchen, "Oh wow."

Her table was set, with a candle lit in the center. A bottle of white wine sat opened, waiting to be poured. Whatever he had made smelled delicious.

"Hope you like fish pie."

His voice suddenly behind her caused her to jump; something that had hadn't happened in a very long time. He walked around her and opened the oven, "I'd say it's done. Have a seat."

She did as he requested, watching him move about the kitchen. This was a bizarre sight indeed. It would seem that this entire day was going to become a strange one! He dished out the food and carried their plates to the table. Before sitting down he poured her a glass of wine, and one for himself.

"Enjoy." He told her as he sat.

He delved right in. For several moments she didn't move. Then she came to, realizing that she was acting foolishly by allowing her food to grow cold.

"Sherlock … this is fantastic!" She exclaimed.

He smiled at her.

"What brought this all on?" She asked before she took a sip of wine.

He shrugged, "You seemed a bit upset last night, thought cooking dinner would perhaps make you feel better."

"Oh … well uhm, thank you. It's much appreciated."

He smiled again, "Any interesting autopsies today?"

"Actually yes, there was one!"

Conversation flowed easily from that point on, and once they were finished eating Molly told him that since he did the cooking she would do the washing up. After she was done and was walking out of the kitchen she found Sherlock sprawled across her sofa.

"Will you hand me my violin?"

Noting that the instrument was lying upon the coffee table, directly beside him, she could not help but sigh as she walked over and picked up the instrument. She was almost tempted to hand it to him and say 'Your grace,' but she decided not to. Instead when she gave Sherlock his violin she fixed upon him a stern glare, "You do remember that you are only to play this during the day Sherlock! No middle of the night concerts! I have neighbors!"

He gave her a weary look, "Of course I remember. And as you are here with me every night I think you would notice that I haven't played it, not once." He finished his sentence with a slightly indignant sniff.

She shook her head as she moved away to go change into her pyjamas. When she returned his violin was back in its case and a plate of biscuits had been placed on the coffee table with a steaming cup of tea.

"Uhm thanks …" She said to him as she sat down.

He smiled at her before stretching himself out and laying his head in her lap, as he often was wont to do. Molly worked her fingers through his curls, just the way that he liked.

"Why is your flat so … neat?" She asked suddenly.

"Ahh, noticed that did you?"

She stared at him, "It's a bit difficult not to when it's usually in complete disarray."

Sherlock sniffed, "I cleaned." He leaned slightly forward and nicked a biscuit from the plate.

She continued to stare at him, "You never clean. Mrs. Hudson tidies up or I do whenever I happen to stop by."

He shrugged, "I'm trying something new."

She huffed, "Fibbing." She sang out.

He pouted, "Fine. I was going to ask you, _again_, to move in with me, and I thought that perhaps having the flat look neat would help in enticing you to say yes."

Her eyes narrowed, and she gently pushed him from her lap before coming to stand and walking away from him. Sherlock watched her silently as she disappeared into her bedroom. After a few minutes had passed and she didn't return, he got up and followed her.

"Molly?"

She was sat upon the bed, on the edge of the side that he always slept on. Her shoulders were slumped, her head bowed forward.

"Molly?" He repeated as he slowly approached her.

A sigh was the only response he was given. He sat down beside her.

"I don't understand Sherlock. And just like you, I don't like not understanding."


	3. Part Three: Helping Molly to Understand

**Is anyone else as confused as poor Molly? Don't worry, all will become clear in this chapter!**

* * *

><p>Part Three: Helping Molly to Understand<p>

* * *

><p>"What don't you understand?" Sherlock asked her.<p>

"This." Molly gestured with her hand, moving from him to her, "What is this? What is going on here?"

She still wasn't looking at him.

"This? Well ahh … I suppose all relationships hit a roadblock at some point. From the research that I've done this seems to be a perfectly normal occurrence."

Molly held up her hand, "Hold on a tic. We're not in a relationship! We're not da-a—ate—_oh_." Her expression changed, her eyes widening in realization; suddenly everything was becoming clear, "All those times that I helped you with a case, went to crime scenes with you, those were dates, weren't they? You coming here and staying over and me at Baker Street that was just us … spending time together?"

He didn't answer, only glanced away from her.

Molly let out a slow sigh, "We really need to work on our communication."

Suddenly she reached out and gave him a good, sound smack on his arm, "Sherlock bloody Holmes! How the hell am I supposed to know that _we_ are in an actual relationship?" She continued to hit him upon the arm.

"Molly—stop it!" He grabbed onto her wrist, "You know how I am with talking about _feelings_," He spat out the word as if it were a curse, "I thought that you would catch on, since we've been spending so much more time together. I didn't think that I would have to tell you! I thought that you would just … know."

She gave him a weary look.

"Cleary I was wrong." He let go of her wrist and it fell limply to the bed.

"We've never even kissed, let alone shagged. Why would I ever think that you considered us … as an _us_?" She hugged her arms about her middle, looking away from him, "I feel so stupid." The words came out barely audible, but Sherlock heard them.

"That was not my intention at all." He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her slightly so that she was facing him, "You're not stupid, not in the slightest. You are one of the smartest people I know."

When she still wouldn't look at him he cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head up so that she had no choice but to meet his gaze, "Molly, haven't you at all wondered why I have been more … _affectionate_ with you?" He spoke the word as if he was uncertain that he was using it correctly.

"At first I did. It surprised me, I never thought of you as being a cuddler. But than I just decided that it was just you, being you. You needed comfort for whatever reason. Or that maybe you were gathering information for a case. I don't know. I wanted to ask, but I thought you would just scoff at me."

A pained expression crossed over his face, "Yes, you would think that, wouldn't you? That's all I've ever done to you, manipulated you, used you. Why would you ever think that I wanted to actually _be_ with you?" He shot up from the bed and stalked towards the window, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, his back to her.

Molly looked at him for a moment, watching the muscles beneath his shirt ripple slightly as he breathed in and out, "Sherlock … that's not all you've done. You've been a friend to me as well. I highly value your friendship; I don't know what I'd do without it." She quietly stood up from the bed, keeping her step light and silent as she moved towards him, "It's just … I never once thought it would be possible that you would ever want anything more from me. I've always wanted more, but I never thought that the day would come when you would too."

He turned and faced her, their eyes meeting, "I don't know how to do this … be with someone. Clearly I don't since I thought you—"

Molly cut off his diatribe with her hand over his mouth, "Sherlock, every relationship I've been in has failed, it's quite obvious I don't know how to be with someone either." She dropped her hand away.

"Perhaps that's because you've picked the wrong person every time?"

"Sherlock."

He clamped his mouth shut.

"Relationships aren't easy. They require a lot of work. You have to be unselfish, and considerate of the other persons feelings, can you do that?"

"Isn't that what I've been doing for these passed three months?"

Molly let out a slow breath, thinking back on all of the times that he showed up at the morgue with a coffee from her favourite shop, or how when he would us her flat as a _bolt hole _he almost always brought take away. And usually after they had solved a case he would take her to dinner at Angelo's. He was no longer insulting her, or trying to deduce her. And there was also the fact that he had stopped using the bed in her spare room, claiming the mattress to be too small. Now that she really thought of it, he had slept more nights in her bed, with her, than at Baker Street in his own bed.

"Yes, that is actually exactly what you've done. And I've just been too oblivious to notice." She took his hand in hers and brought it up to her lips, pressing a kiss upon it, "Can we start over? Do things properly?"

He moved so that he was now fully facing her, "Is that what you want?"

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, "Of course it's what I want. To be with you, is all I've ever wanted."

He exhaled slowly and stepped closer to her.

"How come you've never kissed me? Surely in your _research _you read that kissing is an important part of being in a relationship." Her smile was slightly cheeky, but also tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"I'm not entirely adept at kissing, and you never instigated that you wanted me to. I didn't want to force myself upon you."

"Well, I'm now giving you permission. Force yourself upon me all you want." She blushed darkly the moment the words left her lips, "That … that didn't come out exactly right. You-you can kiss me now, if you'd like."

She was still holding onto his hand. With his free one he brought it up, cradling the side of her face. He leaned forward, ducking his head down. It almost seemed as if he was moving in slow motion. Their gaze was locked, staying that way until their lips met. Her eyes dropped closed, as he slowly deepened the kiss. She let go of his hand, bringing both of hers up to rest against his neck, just below his jaw line.

Molly didn't believe for a second that Sherlock had never kissed someone before. Surely he must have kissed Janine when he had pretended to be with her. He must have kissed girls when he was younger. No one could be this good their first time around!

"Oh … all of this could have happened so much sooner if you had just gone ahead and kissed me in the first place! I would have caught on that much quicker!" She murmured breathlessly against his lips.

"Molly. Stop talking."

He kissed her again, cradling her head in both of his hands, before moving them down to wrap his arms about her waist in order to hold her close up against him. She dropped her hands to his trousers, hooking her thumbs in the belt loop and giving a tug forward. He allowed her to guide him, but not breaking apart the kiss. She spun him about and he stumbled slightly when the back of his legs bumped against the bed, she gave him another nudge and they fell down onto the mattress. She giggled against his lips, now lying on top of him.


	4. Part Four: A Step Forward

**Bring on an interesting confession … and of course THE SMUT! :D**

* * *

><p>Part Four: A Step Forward<p>

* * *

><p>"Sherlock have you ever … are you a?" Molly stopped, peering down at him, thinking that perhaps he would be offended by such a question.<p>

He shook his head.

"So you've never …" She let the sentence trail off for a moment, "Not even during your …" She faded off again.

He knew exactly what she was referring to; his _drug-riddled days_, "If I had, I don't remember."  
>"Oh …"<p>

He sat up slightly, leaning on his elbows. Instead of moving back, she stayed where she was, so that their lips were nearly touching.

"Teach me?" He spoke this softly, a hint of apprehension in his voice, "I know the basics of what are required, what needs to be done, but I … show me what you like?"

Instead of directly answering him, Molly pressed her mouth to his. She cradled his face in her hands as the kiss deepened. When she lightly dragged her tongue across his bottom lip, he opened his mouth to her; their tongues performing an intricate dance.

"Aren't our clothes supposed to be removed?" He gasped out, when they parted for air.

She giggled, pulling herself up onto her knees, "Yes, usually."

"Usually?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Depends on how desperate you are; sometimes clothes just get shoved to the side, removed just enough."

"Ahh … interesting."

"I think now calls for a full-clothing removal though."

"Mmm …"

She rolled off of him and he sat up fully as she slid from the bed. She had her back to him, and hesitated for a moment before glancing at him over her shoulder.

"Would you like to watch?"

Sherlock swallowed thickly, and nodded. She smiled slowly and turned about to face him. Nudity had never been a concern to him. He wasn't bothered or shocked by the prospect of a naked body. It had never intrigued him or turned him on. It was always just a body; the transport for the brain. But now, watching Molly as she slowly began to remove her clothing; revealing herself to him, he found that the sight of the naked form, _her _naked form, was a beautiful thing. A sight that he would never grow tired of.

The first thing she had removed was her jumper, followed by her shirt, tossing both to the floor. She was wearing a simple, plain white bra and reaching back she unhooked it, letting it too fall to the floor. She then paused for a moment, allowing him to gaze upon her.

Yes, her breasts were small, he had noted this long ago, but they were small because they were adequately sized for her shape. She undid her trousers next, slipping them down and pulling them off, revealing a pair of white knickers with pink polka dots. He would have to be a blind man in order to not notice the obvious patch of wetness upon the fabric. He found himself swallowing thickly again, his cock giving a prominent twitch in his trousers. Keeping her knickers on, she stepped closer to the bed.

"Your turn." She told him.

He exhaled loudly before sliding himself forward and coming to stand beside her. She watched as he slowly undid each button on his shirt, before moving to undo the ones at his wrists. He slipped it off and it fell to the floor. His pale, scar-riddled chest appeared to almost be glowing from the faint light of the open window. Next he undid the button of his trousers, then the zip, before they too joined the others on the floor.

Now he stood in only his pants, his erection prominent beneath the fabric. Molly stepped forward, keeping her eyes locked on his. She placed both of her hands upon his hips, before slipping her fingertips beneath the hem of his pants. His breath hitched as her hands skimmed down his body, ever so slightly brushing across the curve of his arse, as she pulled his pants down his legs. She was kneeling before him now, his pants at his ankles. He stepped out of them and kicked them away. She was no longer looking into his eyes, but was now fascinated by the sight of his revealed cock. He couldn't stop the slightly smug smile from coming to his face. But he gasped slightly when he felt her warm breath upon him, causing his cock to give another slight twitch.

Instead of moving closer to him she stood up and grabbed his hands, placing them onto her hips, "Take mine off." She instructed.

He repeated her actions, kneeling before her, just as she had done with him. He grew still when he caught upon the scent of her arousal, his gaze locking upon her neatly trimmed pubic hair that was gleaming faintly. He had never come across anything like this scent before. And he was certain that he wouldn't be able to describe it if he was asked.

She cupped his face in her hands and tugged him upwards. He stood. They were now both entirely naked.

"Lie down upon the bed." She instructed.

He did as she asked, stretching himself out, as she came up and sat beside him.

"Just relax. I think you're going to enjoy this." She gave him a small grin before sliding her body downwards so that she was now sitting directly before his left hip.

Ever so slowly she reached out and touched the head of his cock with her fingertip, spreading the small bead of pre-cum. She then slid her finger downwards, allowing the rest of her fingers to join in as she moved along his length.

Sherlock swore loudly as she reached the base. She wrapped her hand around his cock before looking up at him. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his hands fisting the sheets.

"You can watch if you like." She told him.

His eyes flew open, meeting hers. She gave him another grin then leaned forward and took the head directly into her mouth, giving him a gentle suck, swirling her tongue about him. He swore again, but this time he forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching as she slowly took more of him into her mouth.

"I don't think I would have deleted this." He gasped out; he then stopped talking, the room filling with the sounds of his groans and heavy breathing.

She alternated with her mouth and her hands, licking him from base to tip, stroking him with her fingers, before taking him almost entirely between her lips. When she cupped his bollocks in her hand, giving them a tender squeeze, he was done for, emptying himself down her throat.

He hadn't wanted to do that, he had wanted to warn her that he was close, but he couldn't form the words. His now flaccid cock lay against him. She was placing light kisses upon his hip bones. He reached down and touched her shoulders; she raised her head then pulled herself up to lie directly beside him.

"You didn't have to; you didn't need to do that." He panted out.

She smiled at him, brushing his curls away from his forehead, "It's all right. I don't mind."

His breathing slowly began to return to normal, "Can I, can I do the same for you?"

She smiled again, "Only if you want to."

His eyes narrowed slightly, "Do you not enjoy it?"

"I do, it's just a lot of time guys don't always know how to do it properly."

He moved onto his side, "Show me. Tell me what you want."

Molly nodded and he slid himself downwards. She spread her legs and he kneeled between them. He placed his hands on her thighs and gazed up at her.

"Go on, don't be shy. Touch me." She encouraged him.

He licked his lips and slid his hands further towards the apex between her thighs. His thumbs brushed over her soft, damp curls. She breathed loudly through her nose.

"Part them."

He did so, spreading her folds with his thumbs, once more being greeted by that fascinating scent of her arousal. She was now revealed to him, in entirety. He had studied anatomy books, fully aware of what a woman's body looked like, but that still hadn't prepared him for the sight of Molly. He gazed upon her glistening pinkness in wonder.

She allowed him to study her for a few moments, knowing that he was filing all of this information in his Mind Palace for later perusal. When she placed one hand on the top of his head, and the other directly above where her pubic hair began, his eyes snapped up to meet hers.

"Put your mouth … here." She slipped her hand down, pointing at the rounded bud, "Taste me. Use your tongue on me."

He lowered his head, wrapping his lips about her.

"Mmmm … that's it, right there! Oh!" She dug her nails into his scalp, not even realizing that she had done so, far too focused on his tongue as he began to lap at her clit.

The flavour of her was fascinating, just like her scent; he couldn't find the words to describe it.

"Fuck, oh! Put-put your finger in me!" She grabbed his hand, pushing it down passed where his mouth was, to her wet entrance. He watched as he slid his finger into her and she cried out.

"Don't stop! Please! Keep your mouth on my clit, please!"

He continued to suckle on her taut little nub, using her noises as a guide. She grabbed his hand, pulling it away from her so that his finger slid out; she slowly began to pump his finger in and out of her. He quickly caught on to what she wanted him to do. She dropped her hand away, clutching at the sheets as he worked her to a frenzy.

Molly had never allowed herself to be so vocal before, always holding back, never sure of how her partner would react. But knowing that Sherlock wanted to learn exactly what she liked, she let herself go. And never had she felt so free.

He added a second finger without her telling him to, curving them slightly as he continued to fuck her with them. That was enough to send her over the edge. She came with a wailing cry, her hips rising slightly from the bed. Her entire body was shuddering. He stilled his fingers, holding them inside of her, but continued to move his mouth on her clit.

She gave his head a slight shove, her legs still shaking. Understanding that this was a signal for him to stop he raised his head and looked at her. She was panting heavily, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. She was looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Come here." She beckoned to him.


	5. Part Five: Confession

**Not enough smut? Well here, have some more! ;)**

* * *

><p>Part Five: Confession<p>

* * *

><p>Sherlock slid his fingers out of her, a soft whimper escaping her throat as he did so. As he moved upwards he made sure to not get any of the viscous liquid upon his hand on the sheets. Once he was beside her she grabbed the box of tissues off of the nightstand and wiped his hand clean, and then his mouth and chin.<p>

"Thank you … for that. It was fantastic." She panted out.

"Can I … can I kiss you? Or would you rather I not?"

"You can kiss me."

He pressed his mouth to hers cautiously, having no idea if she would mind tasting herself. When she deepened the kiss, he understood that she didn't mind at all.

"You can touch my breasts, if you like. Put your hands on them." She breathed against his lips.

He peered down at her, his eyes flitting down to her breasts. Ever so slowly he raised his hands and cupped one in each. They fit perfectly into his palms.

"You can squeeze them, but gently. Massage them, roll my nipples between your finger and thumb. And put your mouth on them. Explore me Sherlock, my body is yours, and so is my heart."

He brought his eyes back up to hers, "Do you really mean that?"

She smoothed his mussed up curls with her fingers, "Yes, I do. I think I've always been yours, from the moment we met."

He blinked rapidly, "I'm yours as well."

She pulled him down to her for a kiss then smiled up at him, "Go on." She nodded down towards her breasts, which he hadn't let go of.

Ever so slightly he tightened his hold on them, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. Molly let out a sigh, her eyes falling closed. Once more he paid attention to the sounds that she made. He very nearly let out a moan when he took her breast into his mouth. She felt luscious against his tongue. He suckled on her nipple, moving his mouth over the hardened bud, before slipping downwards to nibble at the underside.

"Ohhh … that feels nice."

He repeated the action before moving to her other breast. By the time he was finished she was covered in several red marks. Molly let out a soft giggle when she noticed the look upon his face.

"I don't mind being marked by you." She murmured as she pulled him back down to her.

They kissed again for a time, their hands wandering. She _had _told him to explore her. When she palmed his cock, he groaned into her mouth, surprised that he was growing hard once more.

"Do you want to …?" He asked her.

She gave his hardening-cock another stroke, "Yes. Do you? We don't have to, if you aren't ready."

"Molly … mmmff … I think it's perfectly obvious that I want to." He grabbed her hand, pulling it away from him.

She giggled again, "All right. Uhm … condom? I know that you're clean, I've seen all your test results … which is rather surprising due to your past but ahh …"

"Molly, you're rambling."

"Sorry. So … condom?"

"You have a birth control implant, and I know that you're clean … can we … not use one?"

She blinked at him.

"Was that … Not Good? Wrong thing to say?"

"It's just … well … birth control doesn't always work, there's always a risk of pregnancy, and I just thought that you would want to avoid the possibility of having a child."

Sherlock tilted his head slightly, "I've always admired children, they are far more inquisitive than adults and quite a bit a smarter too. But I must admit, I never considered having one of my own, that is … until now."

Molly blinked at him again, "You … you want to have kids … with me?"

"Eventually would be nice."

When she didn't say anything for several moments Sherlock grew worried, "I can wear a condom … it doesn't matter."  
>"No. It's not that. You just, you shocked me a bit, that's all."<p>

"So … no to the condom then?"

"Sherlock will you stop talking for one minute!" She pushed him away from her and sat up, taking a few deep breaths before turning to face him completely, "You want to be with me. You want to have kids with me. Who are you and what have you done with The World's Only Consulting Detective?"

He sat up as well, "I'm not the same man I once was Molly."

"Clearly. What brought on this … massive change?"

"Moriarty." He bit out.

"Oh."

"When he came back, and I had to hunt him down _again_, I came to realize that I had never felt so lonely. John couldn't come to help me, because Mary had gone into labour, so I was completely alone. But then you were there, selflessly offering me your help. I made a vow, something that I thought I would never do again. I vowed that once I had defeated him, when he was truly dead and gone, I would stop denying myself what I wanted."

"And what was that?"

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, "You."

They gazed silently at each other for several beats.

"Of course, as John would say, I had to go and 'cock it up.'" He sighed, looking away from her.

Molly sidled over to him, "Sherlock. You didn't, not entirely." She rested her chin on his shoulder, her hand on his thigh, "We are here, right now, in my bed naked … are we not?"

He turned and looked at her, their noses bumping, "Yes we are."

She smiled, sliding her hand on his thigh inwards, until her fingertips brushed against his length, "No condom."

"No condom?"

"No condom."

She laid herself back down before taking his hand and giving him a tug. He gazed down at her as she shifted her body so that he could settle himself between her legs.

"Just … go slowly, take your time. There's no rush." She told him.

He nodded, exhaling before leaning down to kiss her. She whimpered against his lips as he nestled the head of his cock against her entrance. He opened his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, wanting to watch Molly's expression as he eased himself into her.

She gasped out his name, clutching at his back, as he slid only half his length into her before pulling out. He did this several times, allowing her body to adjust to his girth. When he at last bottomed out she gave a small cry, burying her face into his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" He was about to pull himself out of her, but she held tightly onto him.

"Don't." She gasped out, "I'm fine. You just feel so incredible." She laid her head back down on the pillow and gazed up at him.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding himself as still as possible, "You feel like home."

She grabbed him and kissed him hungrily, "Please." She whimpered, rolling her hips ever so slightly, "Make love to me."

He nodded, kissing her again, before he began to move. As he settled into a rhythm of slow and tender thrusts, all other thoughts fled from his mind. He could only focus on her body beneath him, surrounding him, and the moans she was making and the words of encouragement that she was giving him.

When she hooked a leg up over his hip, her ankle digging into the cleft of his arse, he groaned into her neck, entering her even deeper now. How was it that he had gone so many years without ever experiencing this bliss?

"Just like that, ohhhh!"

Her fingertips were digging into his back, the faint hint of her nails scraping him slightly, but he didn't mind. The sensation of her tight, wetness encasing his cock with every thrust was all that his mind could focus on. That was when he came to realize that he was babbling, moaning to her how good she felt. Some of his words came out incoherent, and when he did this she kissed him, ending his outburst.

She was meeting him thrust for thrust now, their bodies moving in perfect sync. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, watching as her expression changed, the flush of pleasure darkening her skin. She grabbed his hand and brought it down between them.

"Touch me here, lightly." She told him, moving his finger so that it brushed across her clit.

Her entire body shuddered beneath him. She let go of his hand, grasping tightly onto his hip. He continued to thrust, not taking his eyes off of hers as he began to slowly swirl his finger over and across her clit. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o.' He knew what was happening; he could feel her walls tightening around him. She came with a wild cry, his name leaving her lips in a moan. He continued his movements, her body shaking slightly beneath him. When she pushed his hand away he took a firm hold of both of her hips and began to pick up speed.

"Yes Sherlock! That's it!" She held him close to her, "Allow yourself to become undone." She murmured into his ear, he was breathing heavily into her neck.

Molly lifted up her other leg, holding him between her thighs. He was chanting her name now, and babbling nonsense once more. Then suddenly his entire body grew taut. His hips pressed down against hers. He groaned loudly, feeling as if his body had been split in two, but in the most pleasurable way possible. No drug coursing through his veins had ever felt this good. He collapsed against her, his body feeling as if it were boneless.


	6. Part Six: Afterglow

**Oh dear … what's going to happen now?**

* * *

><p>Part Six: Afterglow<p>

* * *

><p>She lay still and silent beneath him, not sure of how he would react from this onslaught and overflow of chemicals surging through his brain. He wasn't crushing her; in fact, she rather enjoyed the closeness of his body against hers. But when she felt wetness upon her shoulder she became aware of the fact that Sherlock was crying. Ever so slowly she raised her hand to his head, gently threading her fingers through his hair.<p>

"Molly..." His voice was course, raspy, thick with emotion. He turned his head, his nose nuzzling her cheek. Their eyes met, a single tear sat upon his lashes, "What's happening to me?"

She had never seen him so raw. Free of his armour. The walls that he had built up about himself had been stripped away. She cradled the back of his head in her hand, bringing up her other to gently stroke his cheek.

"You've found your liberation." She told him softly.

He sniffled, "Liberation?"

"You've been able to let go, be free."

He sighed, leaning his forehead against her temple. She turned, brushing her nose against his.

"The first time can be rather overwhelming."

He laughed slightly, "Did you cry the first time you were brought to orgasm?"

Their eyes met.

"I honestly don't remember, but I was nearly brought to tears by you. Sex has not always been an entirely enjoyable experience for me. But you have by far been the most proficient lover that I have ever had."

He gazed upon her for a moment, then pressed his lips to hers, kissing her sweetly. When they parted she shifted her leg, brushing her foot along his calf muscle.

"I'm still on top of you!" He exclaimed, suddenly coming to notice this. He slipped away from her, coming to rest upon his back.

"You didn't hurt me. I would have let you known, if you had."

He wasn't looking at her; instead he was staring up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment Molly was uncertain of what to do, fearing that perhaps all of this _had_ been too much.

She grabbed the box of tissues once more and held them out to him, "Here, you can clean yourself up. I'm just going to pop off to the loo for a moment."

When he didn't take the box she set it down beside him and slipped off the bed. Once in the bathroom she splashed water upon her face and over the back of her neck. She didn't look at herself in the mirror until she had dried her face and neck with the towel.

Upon gazing at her reflection she found that she was still flushed. Her skin bore the faint mark of his teeth; there was a single red mark directly below her left breast. Her lips were red and swollen from his kisses.

After wiping herself clean she sat upon the edge of the tub, hugging herself about the middle. Truth be told she was terrified of what she may find when she returned to the bedroom. She had at long last gotten what she had wanted; she had shagged Sherlock Holmes, but at what cost?

He had told her that he wanted to be with her. He had thought that they were already in a relationship! He had brought her to orgasm twice. And now they had joined their bodies in the most intimate of ways.

Sex had the power to change friendships. It could strengthen it or break it. What would it do to them? What awaited her in that bedroom? Would he still be there, or would he have fled, realizing that this was not at all what he wanted? That all of _this_ was asking too much of him.

Fighting back tears, Molly forced her self to stand and exit the bathroom. Upon entering her bedroom she was surprised to find the faint glow of the lamp on her nightstand filling the room. Sherlock was still upon the bed, now covered by the sheet. He was leaning against the headboard.

"What took you so long?"

She could feel his eyes moving over her naked body.

"Sorry ... I was ... I was thinking." She climbed up onto the bed, slipping beneath the sheet.

"Is that customary? To spend so much time thinking after coitus?" He grabbed her, pulling her up against him.

She sighed against his skin, reveling in the warmth of his body, "In some situations, yes, it is."

"And this is one of those situations?"

She tilted her head back so that she could look at him, "Yes."

"Why?"

She momentarily became distracted, as he slid his hand up and down her back, stopping directly before he touched the curvature of her arse.

"Be-because ... we just made love, and ..."

He stilled his hand, splaying out his fingers across her lower back, "Molly, don't think for one moment that I won't want to do this again, and again, and again." He emphasized each repetition with a kiss, "I have partaken of the pleasure that our united bodies can bring ... I assure you, I will want to make love to you for the rest of my life." He moved to kiss her again but she leaned back, placing her hands upon his chest.

"Sherlock Holmes, are you proposing to me?"

He took one of her hands in his, turning it over so that he could kiss her palm, "And what if I am? Do you object to such an offer?"

Molly swallowed thickly, "I-I don't know, so much has taken place tonight. I feel somewhat confused; my brain is all a bit fuzzy."

Sherlock chuckled, lacing her fingers with his, "Yes, I feel the same way. It's rather enjoyable. I don't think my mind has ever been so quiet, and I have you to thank for that." He held their joined hands over his heart, "You don't have to give me an answer tonight, I shouldn't have said anything yet, but I wanted to assure you that I wasn't about to up and leave you."

She settled herself down against his chest, as he continued to hold her close. She had feared that he would be the one overwhelmed but now it seemed that the tables had turned entirely and it was in fact she that was the one being overwhelmed. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, the scent of him filling her up. He was still holding onto her hand.

"How about we continue this conversation in the morning? Wait until our minds are a bit clearer, hmmm?" She propped herself up on her chin.

He looked at her for a moment; she knew that he was trying to read her, "All right. But nothing's going to change; I won't feel any different tomorrow than I do now. I'll still want you, I'll still need you."

His gaze was direct. She knew that he wasn't lying; she could always tell when he was lying. With her one free hand she brought it up to his face, brushing her fingertips over his cheekbone.

"Good to know." She said then pushed herself up and briefly pressed her lips to his, before lying back down.

A few silent moments passed before he asked her, "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Hmmm?"

"I believe it would be advantageous if we only slept naked together from now on."

Molly let out a soft chuckle, nipping at his skin with her teeth, "We shall see."


	7. Part Seven: The Morning After

**Will Sherlock hold true to his word? Is he going to feel the same in the morning? Read and find out ;)**

* * *

><p>Part Seven: The Morning After<p>

* * *

><p>To be woken up by feather-light kisses being placed upon her back was surely not a terrible thing. Molly sighed quietly, letting out a giggle when Sherlock nuzzled her with his nose. She rolled over, absolutely adoring the sight of his curls that were in complete disarray.<p>

"Hello…" She murmured to him.

"Hello."

When he leaned down to kiss her she stopped him with her hand, "I don't think you want to subject yourself to my morning breath." She dropped her hand away.

"Morning breath?" He repeated.

"Yeah … no one's breath smells fantastic when they wake up."

He rolled his eyes, "I don't care." He stated, and to prove his point he leaned down and kissed her soundly.

She hummed against his lips then moaned when she felt his hardened length pressed up against her stomach. She let out a slight squeal when he slipped his hand down between them, dipping his fingers between her folds to stroke her until she grew wet and ready for him.

"Fuck! Sherlock, you're a fast-oh!-you're a fast learner!"

He chuckled against her neck, nibbling on her skin.

She placed her hands onto his chest, giving him a slight push, "Sit up."

"Hmm? What?"

"Sit up!" She repeated.

He did as she asked and she straddled his hips, brushing her now-wet slit against his cock.

"Like this?" He questioned.

"Mmmhmmm!" She wrapped her hand around his length, positioning the head directly at her opening before allowing herself to sink down upon him.

Sherlock's mouth dropped open, amazed by the new sensation this bodily arrangement was bringing him. He held on to her tightly as she began to move, letting out a string of curses once she truly began to ride him.

"Suck on my breasts Sherlock!"

He did so, swirling his tongue about each nipple until they became hardened buds. She was moaning wildly, clutching tightly onto his shoulders, as she slid her self off of him before sinking back down.

"Oh God Sherlock, you feel so good!" She whimpered.

He began to rock his hips, in time with her movements. He circled his thumb over clit and she cried out, dropping down onto him, her entire body shaking. He held her close, waiting for the waves of her orgasm to ebb.

"Go ahead Sherlock." She whispered to him, a few moments later.

He cupped her bum in his hands, lifting her off of him. The joint effort of him moving her body and the rocking of his hips sent him over the edge quickly. They clung to each other, their hearts beating a rapid tattoo as they slowly came down from the high that their orgasms had brought them.

She had her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her head tucked under his chin. His hands were still cupped around her bum. Minutes passed where neither of them spoke a word.

"Please Molly." He murmured into her hair.

"Hmmm?" She lifted up her head and looked at him, his face was gorgeously flushed.

He stared down at her, his gaze intense, "Please say you'll move in with me. I want you there, at Baker Street. I need you with me."

She bit down on her bottom lip.

He hastily added, "I know that I'm not easy to live with, that I'm more of a pain in the arse than anything, but surely I have proved to you over these passed three months that I'm willing to try?"

She moved her hands until they were cradling his face, "Yes."

"You will?"

She nodded her head, "I will move in with you."

With a triumphant cry he pushed her down onto the bed, kissing her deeply. Molly laughed against his lips, kissing him back just as passionately. When her laughter didn't stop, and only seemed to increase he pulled away from her.

"What exactly are you finding so amusing?" He asked, in a rather annoyed tone.

She let out another giggle before saying, "You do realize this has been Mrs. Hudson's intention all along?"

Sherlock froze, his eyes widening.

Molly smiled up at him, "She's repeatedly kicked you out, knowing that you would come and stay at my flat. She's quite a schemer for an old woman. Bit of a romantic too. Rather funny that she hadn't a clue that you were already in the process of pursuing a relationship with me."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "I always miss something!"

Molly let out another giggle, "Yes you do, don't you?"

He let out a growl, covering her mouth with his own to silence her, "I think we'll have to make Mrs. Hudson regret her little plan." He stated firmly when he pulled away.

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock cheekily smiled, "Well, you're quite noisy during sex!"

Molly gave his arm a slight pinch, "You're not so quiet yourself!"

He kissed her again.

"I'll buy her some ear plugs, or perhaps she could increase the amount of herbal soothers she takes?" Molly suggested.

"Mmm, nope. I prefer making her suffer."

"You're cruel. Poor Mrs. Hudson! But I suppose it's a bit better than shooting bullets into the walls!"

He hummed in agreement, kissing Molly once more, his thumb brushing up against the underside of her breast, "I think I prefer taking you up against the wall, than shooting at it!"

She chuckled against his lips, "Oh my … I fear I've turned you into a sexual beast!"

"Problem?" He had grabbed both of her legs, lifting them so that they were hooked around his hips.

She shook her head, "Not at all!"

"Good. You're a far better conversationalist than Billy the Skull, and -mmmm! - you have the greater advantage."

"Do I?" She moved her fingers through his curls, "What's that?"

"Your body." He slid his hand down the length of her, stopping when he reached her hip.

When Molly unexpectedly wrapped her hand around his cock, Sherlock let out a curse.

"Your body isn't too bad either." She noted, raising her eyebrow cheekily as she began to stroke him to full-hardness.

Sherlock growled again, grabbing onto both of her hands, moving her arms until they were above her head. He laced their fingers together, pressing their joined hands into the mattress. Molly let out a curse of her own when he managed to slide his length into her.

She whimpered slightly, as he nestled himself against her. When she rolled her hips he let out a loud, guttural moan.

Molly couldn't help herself, chuckling softly before declaring, "Mmmm … poor Mrs. Hudson indeed!"

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**TA DA!**

**Heh … hope you enjoyed this :) Be sure to let me know what you think! I love hearing everyone's thoughts.**


End file.
